


The Home Front

by kethni



Category: The Bill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:17:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Note: this is a very brief sequel to ‘To end all Wars’.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Home Front

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this is a very brief sequel to ‘To end all Wars’.

 

                                                                       

 

“So, if we allow for two days in London, and two days travelling, then we’ll return here in time for the fete.” Luke looks down at the arm sneaking around his waist from behind. “Lord _Glain_ ,” he says meaningfully.

 

“Yes?” Craig asks, rubbing his face in Luke’s hair.

 

“Are you listening to me,  _Sir_?”

 

“Four days in total; so we’ll get back in time for me to open the fete,” Craig says dutifully.

 

“Good.”

 

“What’s making you unhappy?”

 

“Nothing,” Luke says quietly.

 

Craig removes his arm from Luke’s waist, and then walks over to his walnut and marble desk. He sits down in the comfortably worn chair, and looks at Luke still standing by his own much less ornate desk.

 

“Is it time for luncheon yet, do you think?”

 

Luke blinks at him in surprise, and glances at the clock ticking on the mantelpiece. 

 

“It’s nearly one-thirty. The girl should be along momentarily.”

 

“Oh good,” Craig says with a smile. “Can you please make sure you unlock the door when she arrives with it?”

 

***

 

“Darling!” Gemma calls through the door. “Are you dreadfully busy? We’re supposed to be playing tennis with the Major and Mrs Lester.”

 

Craig rolls his eyes, and misses the little smirk that Luke throws his way. He unlocks and opens the door.

 

“Just be ten minutes. Have to change into my whites.”

 

“Could you possibly ask Mr Ashton if he would look after Thomas for a couple of hours? He’s feeling unwell.”

 

Craig is about to say something when he notices Emily Lester standing a few feet away, pretending not to eavesdrop.

 

“Of course I’ll ask him. I’ll meet you out on the court.”

 

***

 

“I hate these people,” Gemma whispers through the smile plastered across her face.

 

“As do I. I can’t imagine why you invited them,” Craig whispers back as he takes an experimental stroke with his racket.

 

“Because they invited us to their damned recital.” Craig and Gemma take their positions on the court. “I just hope that they get bored and find someone else to leech off.”

 

***

 

“Are you supposed to be out of bed if you’re unwell?” Luke asks mildly.

 

“It’s only a jigsaw.” Thomas pushes hair out of his face. “And I  _am_  in my pyjamas.”

 

Luke sits on the floor opposite him.

 

“Well, we don’t want you to get any more sick than you already are.”

 

“I’m not sick,” Thomas says seriously. “It’s only a cough.”

 

“Whooping cough can kill you,” Luke points out.

 

“Golly.”

 

“But you don’t have that,” Luke adds quickly.

 

“Would you tell me about being a soldier?” Thomas asks hopefully.

 

“I wasn’t a soldier for very long.”

 

“Did you kill a lot of Huns?”

 

“No, I don’t think I killed anyone.”

 

“Oh, but was it very exciting?” Thomas asks, his eyes lighting up.

 

“It was very scary, dirty, and messy. People die in wars.” Luke scratches his head. “Most soldiers aren’t bad people, even if they are German. They’re just doing what they have to.”

 

***

 

“Forty – love,” Craig calls helpfully.

 

“Thank you,” Major Lester says through gritted teeth.

 

“You do so like to win, don’t you?” Gemma says with a grin.

 

“Of course,” Craig says quietly.

 

“Meant to ask what the problem with Luke is?” Gemma easily returns the Major’s volley.

 

“He says nothing’s wrong.”

 

“Men! How you get anything done is beyond me.”

 

***

 

The day after, Craig and Luke catch the overnight train for London. They are shown into a two-person sleeping compartment, and Luke busies himself arranging their belongings.

 

“Do you want a drink?” Craig suggests, waving a small hip flask around.

 

“Probably not a good idea,” Luke says doubtfully. “We might attract undue attention.”

 

“Thought it might help you to relax somewhat.”

 

Luke sits opposite Craig.

 

“Relaxation is not conducive to hard work.”

 

“This isn’t hard work,” Craig says gently. “This is merely you playing at ‘good secretary’.”

 

“Tease as you will.”

 

“Will you have lunch with me in the dining car?” Craig asks.

 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Luke asks, confused.

 

“No reason. I thought it would be a nice thing to ask, rather than assume.”

 

“There's no need to worry about me,” Luke says softly.

 

“I do worry. Particularly when your manner is so altered from normal.”

 

“We can't discuss this here,” Luke says with a sigh. “When we reach the hotel perhaps.”

 

“But you will discuss it with me?” Craig urges.

 

“Perhaps, maybe.”

 

***

 

London is as noisy, filthy, and reeking as Craig remembers from his other visits. Dirty steam rises from the train as the passengers clog the platform.

 

“This way!” Luke calls above the babble of sound. “I have the luggage.”

 

They thread their way between the ladies and gentlemen milling around, and then push through the ragged beggars outside. Craig lags behind, and presses copper pieces into the outstretched hands of young children. He would give them silver, but he knows it would be noticed by the adults and stolen immediately.

 

Luke reaches the pavement, hails a cab, and has the luggage stowed before Craig has even got the door open. Luke opens the door for Craig, and then climbs into the carriage behind him.

 

“The Regent Hotel, please,” Luke says, with a nod to the driver.

 

“You move damn fast,” Craig says, panting slightly.

 

“I have no desire to lose my watch to a fingersmith,” Luke says tartly.

 

“Have no fear, no one picked my pockets.” Craig holds up his valuables. “See, money and watch both safe. As if I would let someone steal the watch you bought me.”

 

Luke grins at him.

 

“But still, you shouldn’t encourage beggars and urchins.”

 

“I might expect more compassion from a former street arab,” Craig says gently.

 

***

 

The connecting door between the two hotel rooms is opened silently. Craig pulls back the covers and smiles, as Luke divests himself of his clothes and climbs into bed with him.

 

“Your bed has been warmed,” Luke says accusingly. “Do only titled types get bedpans now?”

 

“Are you cold?” Craig spoons behind Luke and kisses the back of his neck.

 

“I would be for what they care,” Luke whinges. 

 

“This is warm enough for both of us.”

 

“A little spot of larking around would make me warmer,” Luke says, looking over his shoulder and smiling seductively.

 

“It would, would it?” Craig turns Luke onto his back.

 

Luke strokes his fingers through Craig’s hair as they kiss. Craig moves down slowly, brushing his lips along Luke’s throat. Luke works his fingers through Craig’s hair as he continues to move down Luke’s body.

 

Craig tenderly bites Luke’s belly, and then moves to lick his thighs. Luke rakes his nails across Craig’s shoulders as he arches his back.

 

“Suck me,” Luke moans. “ _Now_!”

 

Craig grips Luke’s hips and then slowly licks along Luke’s length. Luke scrunches his toes as Craig swirls his tongue around the head.

 

“Oooh yes…” Luke murmurs.

 

***

 

Luke wakes up with the dawn. He climbs out of bed quietly, and pulls the covers up to Craig’s chest. Craig stirs and smiles sleepily at him.

 

“What time is it?” Craig asks, catching Luke’s hand.

 

Luke glances at the clock ticking on the mantelpiece.

 

“It’s a little after six,” Luke says quietly. He leans down and kisses Craig on the forehead. “I'd best repair to my own bed.”

 

“Why?”

 

“This isn’t home.” Luke sits on the side of the bed. “We haven’t the comfortable knowledge that Andrews will knock, and wait long enough for me to return to my bed.”

 

“Andrews is still sneaking off to the stables with the groom?” Craig asks curiously.

 

“Gossip!” Luke brushes the hair out of Craig’s face.

 

“They derive enough sport from discussing us.”

 

“We can gossip about the servants another time. I’m off to bed. I suggest you go back to sleep.”

 

“Home in a few days.” Craig squeezes Luke’s hand. “Then back to lying in my bed together, waiting for Andrews to knock before you rush back to your room.”

 

“We don’t appreciate Andrews enough. Valets of his calibre aren’t easy to come by.” Luke tucks his clothes under his arm, and then kisses Craig on the lips. “Go back to sleep, my sweet.”

 

***

 

Breakfast is toast and marmalade, porridge with fresh cream, and oak smoked kippers.

 

Luke and Craig devour it all.

 

“You’re very hungry today, Lord Glain,” Luke says innocently.

 

“Travelling wakens my appetite,” Craig answers with a quick smile.

 

“That must be it.”

 

“Have you settled what you will do while I’m at the House of Lords?”

 

Luke shrugs, and takes a sip of tea.

 

“I have some of your correspondence I can work on.”

 

“There are many outfitters with the new fashions from Paris,” Craig suggests. “It’s usual to buy a new wardrobe for the season.”

 

“Sir, really,” Luke says, a little embarrassed.

 

“What?”

 

“I can't go about town,” Luke says quietly.

 

“Are you ill?” Craig asks, concerned. “Do you need a doctor?”

 

“No.” Luke rubs his forehead.

 

“What then?”

 

“Surely I'll be recognised?”

 

“Recognised?” Craig asks blankly. “Oh,” Craig lowers his voice. “By a former client you mean? I think that’s unlikely.”

 

“As an impostor,” Luke says, stabbing a fork into his kipper.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“You are talking about sending me to a gentleman’s outfitter when I’m  _not_  a gentleman.”

 

“Oh I see. What do you think makes a gentleman?” Craig asks.

 

“Breeding, rank.”

 

“ _Money_ ,” Craig corrects mildly. “Especially now with the strikes increasing.”

 

“What if they refuse to serve me?”

 

“You are my secretary. Of course you are a gentleman, why would I employ you otherwise? You are employed by a gentleman, in a gentleman’s post; therefore, you must be a gentleman.”

 

“That is circular reasoning,  _Sir_ ,” Luke says with a smile.

 

“Since when has class been reasonable?”

 

***

 

The assistants in the outfitters are gratifyingly quick to flock around Luke. It is all he can do not to laugh at their fawning and flattering.

 

He orders a new wardrobe, and arranges for the clothes to be sent home along with the bill.

 

Flushed with his success at passing himself off as a gentleman without Craig’s presence, Luke decides to visit more familiar ground.

 

***

 

Craig accepts the cigar and takes a sample puff on it.

 

“Howsat? Good, eh?” Lord Wilshaw beams at him. He is a portly, elderly man with a red face, and a bushy moustache.

 

“It’s… rich,” Craig answers with a wan smile.

 

“Imported, what? Best with a snifter of brandy, eh?”

 

Craig takes a tiny sip of brandy, and then carefully rests the cigar in the ashtray on the table.

 

“So, tell me about this contract?” Craig says briskly.

 

***

 

The cemetery is tiny and overgrown with weeds. There are filthy children in torn rags, chasing and hiding between the graves. They jump out at each other, from behind the twisted trees and straggling bushes.

 

There are women here and there, cleaning the weeds from the graves of their husbands and sons.

 

The gravestone that Luke is standing in front of, is grey with dirt, and clogged with brambles. Luke clears them away as best he can with his stick, and rests his small bouquet on the grave.

 

“That’s my mother’s grave, Sir,” says a confused female voice behind him. “I think perhaps you have the wrong grave. I mean no harm.”

 

She lowers her eyes respectfully, and flinches reflexively as Luke turns around.

 

“Am I so altered, Mother?” Luke asks, nervously.

 

***

 

“Let me see you properly?” Mrs Ashton asks as they sit on a bench in the park.

 

Luke squares his shoulders as she looks him over closely.

 

“You seem well,” Luke says quietly.

 

“I’m better for seeing my baby boy.” She puts her hand on his cheek. “You’re such a man now! You’re all grown, and so handsome. I’ve missed you so very much.”

 

“I thought you hated me,” Luke says quietly. “I brought disgrace on the family.”

 

“Your  _father_!” Mrs Ashton spits the words out. “He wouldn't have it that his brother would defile a child. When I spoke against it, he showed me his hand.”

 

Luke looks away.

 

“He hurt you badly?”

 

“Enough, then he told me that he’d beaten you, and thrown you from the house.”

 

“He told me that you couldn’t bring yourself to look at me. That you were ashamed of me,” Luke says, looking at the ground.

 

“I could never be ashamed of you.” Mrs Ashton touches the back of his hand with her fingers.

 

“Thank you.” Luke squeezes her hand.

 

“Tell me… tell me how you came to be a gentleman? Are you in business?”

 

“I’m secretary to Lord Glain. He was my Captain during the Great War, and afterwards he employed me.” Luke smiles at her. “He’s a good employer.”

 

“A soldier? How could you be a soldier?”

 

“I lied about my age,” Luke says honestly. “I was starving, and needed some regular employment.”

 

“Oh, Luke.” Mrs Ashton strokes his face. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t help you when you needed it.”

 

“Craig – Lord Glain – he took me under his wing during the war. Made certain I was safe and fed. He’s a good man. He takes care of me.”

 

Mrs Ashton looks at him for a long moment.

 

“Are you happy?”

 

“Very much so.”

 

“Good. That’s good, but I wish I could have known what manner of man James was.”

 

“How did you know that I told the truth, and not Uncle James?” Luke asks.

 

“You were a child, and he an adult. He was the one that should have known better. What manner of man uses a child of his own blood for his pleasure?”

 

“There are many men who use others for pleasure, boys and girls,” Luke says slowly.

 

“That’s sadly true. You’re a young man of some means, and considerable attractiveness. Are you engaged? Do you have an understanding?”

 

“Well… no,” Luke says cautiously.

 

“Your father was run over by a cart while he was intoxicated,” Mrs Ashton says conversationally.

 

“I didn’t know that.”

 

“He was an evil man,” Mrs Ashton says mildly. “I hope that doesn’t upset you?”

 

“No, not really.”

 

“He had some strange beliefs which I don’t accept. I don’t think that everything lawful is right, and that everything against the law is wrong.”

 

Luke swallows nervously.

 

“Such as?”

 

“Your father, and the law; would have it that street arabs, lavender boys, and the like are the scum of the earth. Worse than murderers and adulteresses.”

 

Luke crosses his ankles.

 

“And you?” Luke asks quietly.

 

“I believe,” Mrs Ashton says thoughtfully. “That where there is love and respect, there is no crime.” She turns, and kisses Luke on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Stay happy, Luke, and know that I love you.”

 

***

 

“You seem happier,” Craig says as he sits dining with Luke that evening.

 

“I am.” Luke takes a sip of his soup.

 

“You purchased new apparel without being turned from the shop?” Craig asks archly.

 

“I certainly did. I also took flowers to my grandmother’s grave, and happened upon my mother.”

 

Craig pauses, his spoon halfway to his mouth.

 

“Your mother?”

 

“Yes,” Luke says, with a wide smile.

 

“You were reconciled?” Craig asks tentatively.

 

“Very much.”

 

“Good.”

 

***

 

Andrews the valet knocks politely on the door.

 

Inside Luke stirs, and climbs sleepily from the bed. Craig blows him a kiss as Luke walks into his own bedroom, and then closes the connecting door.

 

Andrews slowly opens the door, allowing plenty of time in case Luke has been slow to wake.

 

“Good morning, Lord Glain,” Andrews says politely.

 

“Andrews,” Craig replies.

 

“A good trip, Sir?”

 

“Yes, I think so. Very successful.”

 

 


End file.
